


Looking + Finding

by ActiveAggression



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Asexual Jughead Jones, Body Worship?, Happy Ending, Jason Blossom being cute AF, M/M, Season/Series 01, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:47:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23807125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActiveAggression/pseuds/ActiveAggression
Summary: Before that Summer, the Summer that Jason Blossom went missing, he and Jughead did not date. Do ignore how Jason told the entire town the exact opposite.
Relationships: Jason Blossom/Jughead Jones
Comments: 20
Kudos: 98





	Looking + Finding

**Author's Note:**

> I posted the fic 'looking' two years or so ago and people asked for a happy ending. This story is essentially a heavily edited (heavily/ like there are whole new parts and almost the whole thing underwent a rewrite) version of that original story. I thought about replacing it with this one, but I don't want to completely change the entire storyline of that one so I've posted it as a whole new one. 
> 
> You do not have to read the other one to read this one. This one is, honestly, better written and had a whole host more effort put into it (it's like 7000 words longer) Also, the other one is sad so...
> 
> Tagged as underage, though I don't specify their ages nor do I think they are under the age of 16 (age of consent in my country), just in case.
> 
> This fic does have some vague consent issues. They're pretty quickly sorted out but I thought I would mention. 
> 
> Enjoy

The whole _thing_ starts at school. 

Jughead’s scraping his books, a chaotic pile of bent pages and grease marked covers, out of his locker into his bag. He’s trying to look busy and focused in an effort to disguise the fact it’s taking him a fair few minutes longer than it should to do so. It’s just that the girls he’s trying to eavesdrop on have been talking about Archie’s abs for what feels like forever, and only now - finally - seem to be moving on to something more informative. 

“He says he’s going to help out his dad over Summer. Do you think we should-” 

Jughead attests his heavy focus on the inane conversation taking place a couple lockers down from him as the reason he entirely misses Reggie Mantle’s signature _gonna beat on some nerd_ laugh, until Reggie’s gone out of his way to shove Jughead into the open locker door beside his own. It shuts with a loud clang, accompanied by a tiny smothered squeak from Melody Valentine as she just manages to withdraw her hand in time. Jughead’s books fall from his bag onto the floor, and something grinds hard into his shoulder blade. Reggie high fives some other football asshole, but Jughead barely notices. 

Jason Blossom’s staring at him. 

Jughead isn’t sure what the boy sees then; a slouch of pale skin and under-eye bags, or maybe he saw Jughead hit the lockers - his mouth gasping open, eyes falling shut as the impact shuddered through him. Maybe Jason sees the long column of Jughead’s neck, or the spread of his lips. 

Whatever it is, Jason stumbles over his own feet. When he rights himself and looks back, his pretty features are marred with confusion. 

Jughead, feeling irritated at the interruption to his eavesdropping, sneers at Jason in return, leaning back against the lockers just in case another one of them tries to shove him. It’s quick, so very quick, but Jughead thinks he sees Jason flush before he turns away. 

And then, it begins. 

Jughead licks yoghurt off his spoon and sees Jason staring at him. 

Jughead licks his teeth clean and Jason stumbles into him. 

Jughead leans against his locker and Jason walks into an open door across the hall. 

Jughead snarks at Reggie and it’s Jason who jumps up and pushes him into a wall. Shock filters through the redhead’s eyes as he realises he’d barely shoved Jughead at all and it’s a lot more like he _pressed_ Jughead into the wall. 

See, Jughead aspires to be a writer - or at the very least, write - and therefore he can tell you there are certain connotations associated with ‘pressed’ that are wildly different to the ones associated with ‘pushed’. ‘Pressed’ isn’t necessarily an intimate word, but when it’s applied to the situation of one boy pressing another against a wall, and said boy doing the pressing has been blatantly obsessing over the other’s mouth for weeks, the connotations around ‘pressed’ become something that can’t quite be described as not-intimate. 

Jughead isn’t sure if the same ideas around the word ‘pressed’ come into Jason’s mind - he doubts it - but regardless, Jason’s aware enough to step back out of Jughead’s space. 

“Watch yourself,” Jason mutters, fierce in a halfhearted kind of way. Almost as an afterthought he adds a soft, “freak.” 

Jughead resists the automatic _why would I have to watch myself when you’re doing it for me_ that tries to trip off his tongue. 

“Come on,” Jason orders the others, like he’s not staring at Jughead’s mouth. There’s a beat where nothing happens, where for a split second Jughead considers what kissing Jason might be like. Soft, he bets. _Plush._

Jason turns away, breaks what was essentially a - a fucking _moment_ \- one witnessed by a number of homophobic barbarians. Christ. 

A strange sort of confusion passes between the other footballers as it becomes clear Jason’s not going to beat on him any. Dumbly they follow after him, Reggie jostling Jughead only a little as he passes. 

They leave. They’re gone, and Jughead just - just sinks to the floor. He presses his fingers into his jaw, right where the bruise from Reggie should be. He holds up his wrists and the ring of purple that should be there, is meant to be there, is a mere yellowish-brown remnant from last week. 

Jason saved him, saved him from the bruises and the hurt. 

Jughead hadn’t anticipated this. He’s not oblivious and he’s not dumb, even if he’s perhaps a little socially inept. Jason stares constantly at his neck and his mouth. He can’t concentrate in classes if Jughead’s sitting nearby. He gets so caught up in staring at Jughead’s thighs sometimes he doesn’t move for entire lessons. 

Jughead knows Jason finds him attractive. 

Jughead also knows that you don’t have to like someone to find them attractive. By all accounts Jason should be able to stare at Jughead’s everything and still be fine bullying him. But he’s not. 

Jason Blossom likes him a little more than Jughead thought. 

“You’re on the floor,” someone says snappily. 

“Guess so,” he responds absently. Jason _likes_ him, fuck. 

“In the way,” they say, slightly more snappily. 

“Not really,” Jughead counters, ‘cause he’s really not. He barely takes up any room at all, and the corridor is wide. And Jason likes him. Then again, Jason only likes his features, not _him._ It’s not like Jason would want anything more than sex. All anyone wants is sex. 

God, Jughead hates sex. 

“Looks like a rough time,” the same voice says but suddenly not snappy at all. 

Jughead frowns, looks up. It’s Melody, who should be irritated with him since he almost broke her fingers a week ago and never apologised. She doesn’t look irritated though. She looks sympathetic. 

Jughead suddenly realises how this must look; him, slumped in a school hallway, staring at his slightly bruised wrists like the world’s just ended. Pathetic. 

His world is wobbling precariously on its axis, every reiteration of _Jason likes me_ pushing it a little further, so he rights it with a firm _it doesn’t matter if Jason fuckhead Blossom likes me, nothing’s gonna happen_ and stands. 

“I’m fine,” he says dismissively, “nothing happened.” And nothing ever will. God, he wishes he was more relieved and less unhappy about it. “Just being stupid.”

Melody eyes him. “Somehow I doubt that, smartypants,” she says, shrugs. “You’ll figure it out. I would help but I’ve got to get to practice. I’ll see you after the Summer.” 

She’s gone by the time Jughead wraps his head around _figuring it out_. Figure it out. Figure out Jason Blossom liking him. He shakes his head. There is no figuring it out. There’s only forgetting. 

* * *

Jughead spends the first half of his Summer working at the Drive-In and frequenting the river in the hopes of seeing Archie. Archie’s never there. Jughead wishes he was more surprised. 

The road trip is a red X on his calendar, looming closer and closer. He’s sure Archie won't cancel, but the worry is ever-present. What if that red X becomes the marking point of him and Archie’s friendship being over? The marking point of Archie figuring out that other things mean more to him than their friendship. 

There’s a night where it becomes too much. He’s working, technically, sitting in the projection room watching images play over the big screen outside. It’s a busy night, as it always is for horror movies. 

Psycho was requested. Many many times. The first few times it was requested Jughead didn’t even notice, so used to being called things like psycho - _weirdo, freak, mistake -_ that he’d thought the requests were just that. Name-calling. But no. 

It’s at some middle point of the scream heavy audio that he starts fidgeting. The X is bright in the corner of his eye. It’s tomorrow. It’s tomorrow and he isn’t sure what he’ll do if Archie cancels. The fidgeting gets worse. It’s all he can think about. Archie not wanting him anymore. 

Reggie shoving him, leaning in to call him a freak. _No one likes you. You have no friends. You have no family. You might as well not even exist._

Jughead tears out of the projection room, barely remembering to lock the door behind him. He hightails it to the overpriced food shack, hyperventilating a food order at the bored attendant. 

He’s well on his way to a full-blown panic attack when a flash of orange catches his eye. Jason’s in his cherry convertible, a crowd of footballers surrounding him on all sides, and he’s staring directly at Jughead. 

“Jughead!” Someone says right beside him, jerking him from his staring contest. 

“Melody,” he says. She’s grinning, looking flushed and happy. It’s possible she thinks him almost crushing her fingers was some sort of declaration of friendship. It wasn’t, but he wouldn’t mind pretending. He might not have any friends at all tomorrow. 

“You should come to Thornhill,” she says. Which… fuck, did Jason send her?

“What?” 

“Thornhill. Tomorrow night. There’s gonna be a party,” she elaborates. “You should come.”

“Why?”

She shrugs. “I want you to.”

“I can’t,” Jughead says, “I’ve got plans. Going on a road trip with Archie.” 

“Oh,” she says, deflating slightly. “Well, I mean, if anything happens the invitation’s still open. Starts at nine.” 

If anything happens. God. She knows. They all know. 

“I - okay. Yeah.” Jughead has no intention of going. Definitely not to Jason Blossom’s house. Even if he didn’t have the road trip. 

“Cool,” she grins, “I should get back to the girls. See you.” 

He blinks at her retreating back. 

“Dude,” the attendant says, “she’s cute and all. But could you fucking take your food.” 

“Yeah, sorry,” Jughead mutters, grabbing the bag. When he looks up, Jason’s still staring at him. 

There’s a two-second pause before Jughead rushes back to the safety of the projection room. 

* * *

Archie cancels. Archie fucking cancels. 

The text arrives a half-hour after they were meant to leave, a follow up to the many phone calls Jughead’s made to Archie’s fucking answerphone. 

_Can’t make it today. Too busy. Sorry._

Jughead spends a silent five minutes staring at the text, then another ten pacing angrily around the tiny projection room. He’s halfway through unpacking his meagre supply of clothing when the anger really hits. 

He throws a couple of things, curses colourfully at the roof, and makes the truly terrible decision to _go to the fucking party._

He runs on autopilot for the rest of the day, methodically pulling on his grungiest, tightest jeans and a t-shirt in a similar state as eight pm draws near. It’s a fair way to Thornhill and it’s not like he owns a car. He leaves early, sweating too much in the heat to keep the beanie and jacket on. He carries them, feeling exposed and obvious. 

By the time he gets to Thornhill, the party’s in full swing and he’s lost his anger. He feels stupid and small and silly. 

He can’t see Melody anywhere and Reggie and Moose are lounging by the door, unofficial bouncers. 

“You shouldn’t be here,” a voice says. He glances to the side and Jason’s standing beside him, looking impassive. 

“I was invited,” Jughead counters. 

Jason’s expression twists. It almost looks resigned. “You still shouldn’t have come. You know that.” 

“Yeah,” Jughead says, feeling dejected. He’s a freak. It’s just how it is. 

Jason shifts, fingers sliding up Jughead’s wrist, over his pulse. He hesitates a split second, then draws away, walking back to the party. Like it didn’t matter. 

Jughead stares after him, heartbeat rocketing in his ears. The realisation is sudden, jarring. Jason’s obsession with him has become something more. Something Jughead wants to return. He’s caught feelings somehow in the middle of all this. Feelings for Jason. Fuck. 

He wants to hold Jason’s hand. He wants to kiss the redhead and run his fingers through that ridiculous hair. He wants Jason. 

But not in the way Jason wants him. 

Sexually. 

Jughead doesn’t do sexual. He doesn’t. He can’t. But… he would for Jason. He would for the chance to touch Jason. Even if all Jason wants is a quick fuck in the back of his ridiculous car, Jughead would do it for the chance to touch. Maybe Jason would even cuddle him afterwards - longshot - but maybe it’d all be worth it for the chance of being held. 

The walk back to the Drive-In is dark and long. He spends the entire time thinking about how far he could push himself for Jason. He’s not sure - he’s barely had any sexual contact with himself, let alone others - but he thinks it could be pretty far. 

Fuck, he’s screwed.

* * *

The drive-in’s internet connection is tenuous at best. It works about a quarter of the time and abjectly refuses to bend to Jughead’s schedule. 

Jughead instead ends up sitting in his usual booth at Pops, a day after the party, head bent over his laptop. 

He’s done a fair amount of research into asexuality already, but when he did so he’d never considered having sex. Ever. And now he is and - he really just needs to sort his life out really because he just can’t can’t can’t

He types ‘asexual sex’ into the search bar. He knows already he isn’t disgusted at the thought of sex, but he also knows he isn’t interested in the concept as a whole. It’s just kind of existed, on the fringes of his thoughts like a passing tumbleweed. 

For Archie, he thinks with a twinge, it’s probably more like an everlasting tornado swirling through his mind constantly. 

Quickly he clicks into one of the links to distract him, scrolling until he gets to a section that sounds helpful. 

_What if I do want it?_

He tries to read the entire section over but gets caught on one sentence - reading it over and over. 

_Then go for it. You’re allowed to have sex, even if you’re asexual._

He swallows, nods. Yeah okay. But then he reads the next sentence and feels a little hollow. 

_If you decide to have sex, make sure you’re doing it for the right reason._

Was the right reason ever in a million years going to be _I need to have sex so Jason Blossom might, possibly, maybe cuddle me?_

Probably not. Whatever. 

He finishes reading the section but doesn’t really take anything in and then Jason Blossom slides into the booth across from him. Jughead blinks and shuts his computer. 

He hadn’t really expected to see Jason today. He certainly hadn’t expected the redhead to join him in his booth. At first he assumes Jason’s made some kind of mistake and he’ll realise any second and leave, but then Jason’s eyes meet his and Jughead throws that theory out the window. 

Jughead’s not oblivious. He knows that look Jason gives him; the flicker of want and uncertainty as Jason’s eyes travel from Jughead’s own, down to his lips and then his throat. 

“You lost?” Jughead mumbles, more out of habit than anything else. Jason isn’t lost; Jughead knows that, but he gives the Blossom boy a chance to change his mind. 

Jason smiles. “No. I’m not.” His eyes catch on Jughead’s lips.

Jughead sighs inwardly; fucking sex, man. 

“Your car then?” Jughead mumbles, already regretting even thinking about this. How much is he willing to give up for this boy? How much is he willing to do? God. 

Jason studies him. “I’m sorry,” he starts, “Were you not just reading an article about asexuals having sex?” 

Jughead tries to remain impassive, “so what?” 

“So, you’re not that subtle Jones. It’s obvious you aren’t into it.” 

Jughead pauses, “Then why the fuck are you here?” 

Jason shrugs, “I’m into you. There’s no pressure, I just like looking at you.”

Jughead scowls. He’s not used to people understanding, and if there was ever someone he would expect to know less about asexuality than Archie… well, honestly it would be Reggie. But Jason would be up there. 

“What if I want to?” he asks, throat tight, dry. 

“You don’t.”

Jughead raises an eyebrow. “You know me better than me, do you?” he questions, mocking. “You know what I want?”

He supposes it is possible. He has no idea what he wants. 

“I-,” Jason starts, stops. His brow furrows. “I don’t want you to force yourself to do anything.”

Jughead’s mocking slips from his face. He’d expected Jason to be pushy, expected him to be happy to take advantage of Jughead’s crisis of sexuality. 

He probably would’ve gone along with it too, hated himself later. 

But this… this is Jason Blossom showing a new side of himself. One Jughead’s never seen. It only makes him want to redhead more. 

“You’re not,” he says firmly, “forcing me to do anything. I want to… give it a go?”

Jason’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly and he licks his lips. “You genuinely want to?” 

“Yeah,” Jughead admits, though he’s not too sure he’s thought this all the way through. 

“And you’ll tell me if it’s uncomfortable?” Jason asks. 

“No doubt it will be,” Jughead laughs. 

“But you’ll tell me if you want to stop? Because I will.” 

Jughead considers the other boy, feeling blindsided and a little like he’s somehow walked into an alternate reality. “Yeah. Whatever. I will.” 

* * *

Even after a near month of _this,_ Jughead still finds it surprising to be in Jason’s car with him. Even more surprising is how Jason’s mouth is pressed tight against his own. Weirder still, Jughead _likes_ it. 

Jason’s got Jughead’s face cupped within his hands and Jughead’s got his own hands buried in Jason’s fiery hair and he never thought he could feel so good and carefree sitting in someone else’s lap. He thought whenever he got around to things like this he’d be worried every step of the way, about them taking it too far - about him freaking out. 

Jason moves slow and he always tells Jughead what he wants to do and asks permission and fuck, it’s _good._

They cuddle a lot and Jughead’s gotten used to the slow grinding sessions in the convertible. It works for him, feels right. All aside from one little issue. 

Jason won't come. He always stops them before he can, gasping out a wait, making them stop. He’s come once in the time they’ve been doing this, and clearly seems to think Jughead has some kind of issue with the idea. 

Which he doesn’t. 

He’s told Jason it’s fine, but apparently his encouragement is not enough to actually convince the redhead. Instead Jason keeps doing it, keeps getting right to the brink with Jughead on his knees above him, and then insists they stop, pushing at Jughead until he does stop. It’s honestly the most annoying thing he’s ever experienced. 

Jason’s about to do it again, Jughead knows, and he just can’t fucking stand it. He grinds down low and Jason groans, grabs his hips and whispers, “wait” and Jughead grabs those same hands and pins them back against the seat. 

Jason’s eyes fly open. “Wha-” he tries but doesn’t get much further because Jughead grinds down again and harder and faster and Jason comes. Easy peasy. Jughead examines the other, noting his gasping mouth and how his hands shake where Jughead’s pinned them. 

“You okay?” Jughead asks because he’s suddenly aware he might have gone too far and you aren’t meant to ignore people saying ‘wait’ in situations like these and you sure as hell aren’t meant to just pin them down and fucking sexually assault them with your mostly flaccid dick. 

Jason starts laughing. “I’m fine,” he chuckles, “fucking great actually. Guess you really don’t mind then.” 

Jughead scowls, “I said I didn’t.” 

“I know. I just didn’t want to overstep anything.” 

“You haven’t.” 

“Good, now come ‘ere.” 

Jason pulls Jughead in against his chest, presses a soft kiss into his forehead and Jughead accepts it but has no idea what the hell they’re actually doing. Does Jason think they’re dating? Does he want that? Does Jason want that? 

Jughead just doesn’t know. 

* * *

School starts up again. Archie comes to apologise, makes his excuses. Jughead pretends to accept them, pretends because it’s easier to let Archie get away with it than it is to be friendless again. 

Melody seems to have forgotten about his existence too, obviously swept up in her band - or rather Josie’s band. That’s okay though. Jughead has other things to overthink. 

Like what’s going to happen with him and Jason now. 

* * *

Jughead’s sitting in his usual booth at Pop’s, glaring balefully at his computer. He knows what’s in his head. He knows what he wants to be saying, to be writing, but it isn’t coming out right. It’s barely coming out at all. 

Is this writer’s block? Or is this just his gut-clenching stress about Jason absolutely overriding his ability to _think properly!? God damnit!_

He snaps the lid of his computer shut. Jason hasn’t made any sort of effort to talk to him in school. Jughead isn’t surprised. He isn’t even disappointed really. It is exactly what he expected. 

What’s got him all knotted up inside is the mystery of what’s going to happen outside of school. 

It’s been four days. Four days of nothing. No texts. No contact. Four days. It’s _nothing._ Except over Summer, after it all started, Jughead didn’t go two days without seeing the redhead. 

Considering Summer, four days is a lot. 

His phone buzzes on the table in front of him. With a fair amount of trepidation, he turns it over, then fumbles to unlock it. Christ, he’s desperate. 

_Hey, you around?_

_At Pop’s. Why?_

_Why do you fucking think?_

_I’ll be there soon_

_Unless you don’t want to?_

Jughead’s face feels hot, and he ducks his head so no one he knows notices. 

_See you soon_

* * *

Jason may be fine with continuing their… thing, but it doesn’t extend to school. At school it never happened. At school, they don’t talk about it. They don’t look at each other, or talk to each other, or acknowledge each other. 

They never talk about it, but it’s clear. Jason is over there, with them, the popular kids, being popular. 

Jughead is not. Jughead is… blinking into his locker, confused. His fingers follow, deftly plucking the small folded pink note from the bottom of his locker. It’s a bit damaged like it’s been shoved through his locker grate. 

He unfolds it, wills himself not to hold out hope because it’s not going to be from Jason. They don’t do this in school. 

But it is from Jason. It’s not signed, but Jughead recognises the pretty handwriting. 

_Meet me by the music room. Five._

“What the fuck,” he mumbles into his locker, then reaches for his phone. 

_Five?_

_Five what? Five minutes? Five hours? Five days from now?_

_Five pm idiot_

_You could’ve just texted??_

_Notes are more romantic_

_Haha you’re hilarious_

_You gonna be there?_

_Fucking whatever_

_Is that a yes?_

_Yes it’s a yes_

_Fuck off_

_What exactly did you have in mind?_

_Guess you’ll have to come find out_

* * *

“You what?” Jughead hisses, trying to keep his voice down. It’s after school hours, five-thirty or so, but Jughead doesn’t trust the quiet emptiness of the corridor. Anyone could still be hanging around. 

“I want to kiss you,” Jason repeats, far far too loudly. “Probably do more than that actually. I’d suggest the showers, but I’m not sure we’re there yet.”

“What the fuck,” Jughead manages, still trying to keep quiet. “Anyone could walk in.”

Jason eyes him and shrugs. “So?” 

“So!?” Jughead repeats, “what the fuck do you mean so?”

“I mean,” Jason starts then stops and rubs at the freckled bridge of his nose, “look, if you aren’t comfortable then we won't, okay?” 

“I -” Jughead needs to buy a magic 8-ball or something so it can choose his fate and stop him from making wildly stupid decisions. “Fine, but come with me.” 

Jughead has been walking the school after hours for a long time, knows the ins and outs, the nooks and crannies, where the guards won't check, where the least used bathrooms are. He leads Jason to one of those bathrooms now, a three stalled female bathroom with two broken lights and a dim drowsy ambience that he’s always found soothing. 

Jason gives him a scrutinising look as they enter, like Jughead’s shown far too much of himself, then fits a hand around the side of Jughead’s throat and pulls them slowly together. 

He doesn’t ask like he usually does, doesn’t offer a _can I kiss you?_ His mouth doesn’t move, doesn’t ask, doesn’t need to, because the question is all in his eyes as they close in, a flicker of uncertainty. 

Jughead nods, initiates the kiss himself, starts into it with an open mouth and a flicker of tongue. 

Jason makes a noise, achingly wanting, and draws back enough to whisper, “okay? Please tell me this is okay Jug.” 

“Mmmhmm,” Jughead hums, tilts his head and connects their lips again. 

“What about - oh shit wait,” Jason says, stumbling a step away to lock the door, not letting go of Jughead as he does. He comes back, eyes a little wild, looking mostly at Jughead’s wet mouth. “Christ.” 

Slowly he guides them back until Jughead’s back is against the wall, pressing him against it in a way that definitely can’t be described as not-intimate. Jughead feels a bubble of laughter and quickly forces it down, not wanting to break the moment, not wanting Jason to feel like he’s being laughed at. 

“You okay?” Jason says again, looking concerned, the hand not on Jughead’s neck skating down his ribs and around to the small of his back. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Jughead says, a fair amount of confusion colouring his voice, “we’ve done a lot more than this before?”

Jason laughs quietly, more of an embarrassed sound, and ducks his face into the side of Jughead’s neck. 

“Not like this,” he says, lips catching on Jughead’s throat. 

Jughead takes a shaky breath, because this is going far beyond being not-intimate. This is hurtling through intimacy at the speed of light. Jason is right, of course, they haven’t ever really done anything like this. Their meetups have been, in their entirety, limited to Jason’s car, a setting not so suited to privacy and intimacy. 

“I’m fine,” Jughead says, because he is. “Just, what did you have in mind?” 

Jason pulls back to look him in the eyes, “You know you can say no,” he starts. 

“I know.”

“Okay well, I-” Jason cuts off, looking nervous, possibly lost for words. The hand on Jughead’s back slips around to his hip, fingers bunching in his layered t-shirts. “I - would you be fine if I took this off.” 

“Just the shirts?”

“Yeah.”

Jughead nods, shifts a little to help Jason pull them over his head, absently notes his beanie coming off in the process. Jason drops the pile of fabric onto his bag, sitting by the door, and brushes Jughead’s hair back off his face. 

“God, you look-” 

“Skinny,” Jughead interjects, offering a wry smile. 

“Gorgeous,” Jason corrects, shifting them back against the wall, groaning when Jughead arches off the cold tile into him. “I want - fuck,” and yeah, they’re grinding now, the hard hot press of Jason’s dick into the hollow of Jughead’s hip addicting in a strange way. Jughead’s not aroused per say, but it's good, the closeness, the shared breaths between them, the way Jason’s head drops to rest on his shoulder. Jughead’s found he rather enjoys making Jason feel good. 

“Jughead,” Jason says again, hands coming down to grip Jughead’s hips, stopping their movement. “I want to do something.” 

“Okay,” Jughead says, and it’s not even a question. He’s so fucking gone for Jason. 

“And you can tell me to stop,” Jason says, making eye contact, voice serious, “If you don’t like it, please tell me to stop.”

“Okay,” Jughead repeats, not feeling all that worried. A little, maybe, but he trusts Jason. At this point. 

Slowly, eyes watching Jughead’s face, Jason drops down to his knees. Jughead swallows, swallows his knee jerk reaction to kick Jason away. He closes his eyes, tries to breathe. He trusts Jason, he does. He-

Feels a light press against his stomach, another slightly further up, two quick after that. He opens his eyes, watches Jason press a fifth kiss nearer to his left hip. 

“What?” he manages. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but it wasn’t this. 

Jason rubs his face against the hollow of his hip, hair mussed, eyes barely open. “You’re so pretty Jug,” he says, “I just - I want to do this for hours. Is it okay? Can I?”

“I - yeah,” Jughead manages, “go for it.” _Yeah god._ This is perfect for him, warm and lovely and barely sexual. He has no idea what _Jason’s_ getting out of it but-

Jason nuzzles his face into Jughead’s hip harder, the noise ripped out of him somewhere between a moan and a whine. 

Jughead stares, feels his cock twitch just a bit. Yeah okay. 

Jason mouths along his hips, kisses everywhere he can, nuzzles his face into Jughead’s skin, licks fiery lines wherever he wants. He’s panting, moaning, clearly hard in his jeans. Jughead has no idea why, but doesn’t say anything, occasionally slips his hand through Jason’s red hair. It’s nice to feel wanted like this, nice to be able to make Jason Blossom feel like this without doing anything at all. He’s entranced by the sight, desperate to see more. 

He brings a hand down to Jason’s face, brushes his hair back, strokes over his cheek. Jason flicks him a half-lidded glance, then turns and kisses Jughead’s thumb. Another glance, like Jason’s waiting for something. Jughead has no idea what but gives him a nod. 

Jason kisses again, open-mouthed, licks at Jughead’s fingers. Jughead blinks, watches Jason’s white teeth nip harmlessly at his thumb, finally thinks he might get it. 

“Hey,” he says. Jason looks at him, hazy but listening. “Hit me or something if you wanna stop.” 

Jason blinks at him, draws back a fraction, then Jughead thumbs his bottom lip and he stops, shoots a questioning look upwards. 

“Open up,” Jughead prompts, pushing his thumb down a little. God, Jason has such a pretty mouth. 

Jason does, still keeping eye contact, confusion furrowing his brow. 

Jughead presses his thumb in, skims Jason’s bottom teeth and settles it against his back molars. Jason’s eyes widen, his tongue flicking wet against the intrusion. 

Jughead’s elation at having done something right lasts all of three seconds when Jason pulls back.

“Jug,” he mumbles, face flushed, “Jug, it’s okay?”

“Of course,” Jughead says snappishly, then realises the state Jason seems to be in and softens his voice, “it’s fine. I did it, didn’t I? It’s fine.” 

Jason nods, looking more conflicted. “I - can you -” He drops eye contact, looking downright ashamed. 

“Yeah, what is it?” Jughead says a touch desperately. He wants Jason to feel good, damnit. “Come on. What do you need me to do?”

Jason’s eyes are trained on the floor, his voice barely a whisper. “Can you call me…” His voice trails off until it’s too quiet for Jughead to hear. 

Jughead squats down to be level with him and tilts Jason’s face towards him. “Call you what? Seriously, you can ask me anything. I’m not going to judge you. Come on.”

“Baby,” Jason mumbles, finally making eye contact. “Call me baby?” 

“Absolutely,” Jughead agrees, “is that all? That’s fine. I can-” 

“And be rough,” Jason interrupts, “with the fingers. I -” his voice catches, shaking Jughead out of his surprise. 

“Yeah,” he says, “okay.” Quickly he presses a kiss to Jason’s mouth. “Okay.”

He stands again and Jason’s looking at him with a fair amount of trepidation, like he thinks Jughead’s gonna run out into the hall and start graffiti-ing _Jason Blossom is a fucking freak_ on the walls. 

Jughead leans back against the body-warmed tiles, shifts a hand into Jason’s mussed hair to draw him closer. 

“Come on,” Jughead encourages, face flushing hot as he adds, “come on baby.”

Jason’s hesitation seems to melt out of him and he shuffles in, pins Jughead back against the wall with hands on his hips, licks a stripe up from Jughead’s belly button. 

Jason seems content to go back to what he was doing before, exploring Jughead’s body with his mouth, nuzzling into the soft parts, moaning and panting. 

Jughead arches his body into the contact and, in a move that surprises both himself and Jason, tugs his jeans down a couple inches, giving access to a new sliver of skin. 

Jason groans, slides his tongue over the whole strip from left to right. It’s not exactly right above Jughead’s dick but it’s getting there, and he expects to feel discomfort but doesn’t. He suspects he would if the skin Jason was obsessing over was actually his dick, but this… this is fine. 

So fine that he unbuckles his belt, Jason watching on wide-eyed, and slides his jeans down even further until they’re half a centimetre from exposing the base of his dick. 

“Fuck Jug,” Jason croaks, immediately pressing kitten licks and kisses to the pale skin. One of his hands falls from Jughead’s body to press against the crotch of his own jeans. 

Oh a crazy whim, Jughead lowers his voice, says, “not yet.”

Jason, tongue pressed to his hip, looks up. 

“Don’t touch yourself yet,” Jughead clarifies, “touch me.” Immediately he realises how that sounded and adds, slightly panicked, “not there, just-” 

Jason seems to get it, hand coming up to rest on his waist. 

Jughead kind of has no idea what he’s doing. He has no clue whatsoever. God. Jason said rough, but what that actually entails, Jughead has no clue. 

“Remember what I said,” Jughead manages, mouth dry, “about hitting me if you want to stop.”

Jason nods against his skin, undoubtedly draws his face through his own saliva and doesn’t seem to care. 

“You’re such a mess,” Jughead blurts, mostly because he’s overwhelmed. He doesn’t mean for it to sound so harsh, but Jason doesn’t seem to mind, whining and catching Jughead’s eyes desperately, nodding almost violently. 

Right. Okay. 

“Making such a mess of yourself baby,” he croaks, adds, “disgusting,” on the end even though it’s the exact opposite of what he thinks. 

Jason’s mouth is hot on his skin, wet and insistent against his abdomen. He’s nodding, mouthing something. Jughead isn’t sure what until Jason’s mouth leaves him long enough to emit sound. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Jughead asks, manages to make his voice sound mocking, “I can really tell,” he adds, jostling Jason with his thigh. If anything Jason’s mouth comes back harder, sucking bruises into the exposed skin. “So fucking desperate for it.”

Jason moans, mouth falling open. His next lick slips a little, slides just barely under Jughead’s jeans. If they weren’t pulled so low it wouldn’t matter, but they are and Jason’s tongue slides fast over the base of his dick. 

Jughead jerks back, ready to push Jason away. Jason’s already pulling back though, expression shocked, mouth falling open, probably to apologize, to check in, to - it doesn’t matter. 

Jughead fits one hand under his jaw, slides the thumb of his other hand hard into Jason’s mouth. Distantly he’s aware that the contact is harsh, rough, probably painful. 

“That desperate for it, huh?” he hisses, ignoring the apology in Jason’s eyes. He’s not mad. Just doesn’t want them to end this here. “Want to suck my dick that badly?” 

Jason’s shaking his head, doesn’t seem to have caught on at all. Damnit. 

“It’s okay,” he says, much softer, “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Jason looks confused again, which is at the very least better than before. 

“Come on baby,” Jughead mumbles, withdrawing his thumb, pressing two of his fingers against Jason’s lips, “I’ll give you something to suck.”

The entire situation spins on its axis, Jason’s face falling into startled arousal as he slowly opens his mouth, letting Jughead press the pads of his fingers against his tongue. 

Jughead has to actively remind himself not to be nice about it, invading the other boy’s mouth, pressing against his teeth, making him gag once or twice. 

Jason starts touching himself again and Jughead doesn’t tell him to stop. “That’s right baby,” he says instead, “come on.” He presses his fingers down harder. “Such a mess, aren’t you. Gonna come in your expensive jeans? Yeah? It’s okay, go on.”

Jason’s teeth tighten briefly around his fingers as he whines deep in his throat, eyes slipping closed. Jughead withdraws his fingers and Jason’s head drops to rest against his thigh as he pants. 

“You came?” Jughead asks after a moment, “right?”

Jason lifts his head to grin at him, straight teeth and wet eyes shining, “oh hell yeah.” Slowly he gets to his feet, ducks in to give Jughead a kiss that’s mostly teeth. He’s still smiling, can’t seem to stop. “Holy shit that was crazy.” He pauses and shoots Jughead a look. “That - that was okay right?”

“Yeah.” 

“And I’m so sorry about-”

“It’s fine.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“It - we don’t have to do that every time.”

Jughead can’t help the smile that rudely climbs onto his face. “I wouldn’t mind.” 

* * *

Really Jughead should’ve expected Jason would figure it out. The whole drive-in thing. He’s a little too loose-lipped around Jason these days. 

Regardless he is surprised when Jason drives them there and as Jughead moves to climb over the console and into Jason’s lap, Jason gets out of the car. 

Jughead frowns at him, hoping the question is obvious. 

“Come on,” Jason says, “I want to see your room.” 

Jughead has no idea how he knows (okay a couple of ideas) but finds he doesn’t really mind. He leads Jason to his little room in the projection office. The redhead looks around a little, but then he’s turning abruptly. 

“I want to make out,” he declares. 

“Okay?” 

“On the bed, shirtless. Is that okay with you?” 

Jughead sighs, wishing they didn’t have to have these awkward negotiations. He knows it’s because of him and that only makes it worse. 

“Yeah, cool,” he mutters, pulling his layered shirts over his head. 

Jason’s watching him carefully and follows him to the cot in the corner. 

“You want to be on top?” he asks. 

Jughead shrugs like it doesn’t matter, but he’s already laying down on the bed because he’s never been on the bottom before and wants to try it out. Jason carefully climbs in with him, propping himself up over Jughead. 

“Good?” he asks and Jughead groans, pulling Jason down to kiss him. 

* * *

The privacy the drive-in affords them is insane. Their usual quick grinding sessions - with the notable exception of that time in the school bathroom - become something else entirely. They can try anything, everything. Slow, fast, gentle, rough. Jughead works up the nerve to see Jason’s dick, doesn’t quite work up the nerve to touch it, isn’t entirely sure he wants to. 

Jughead opens the door on a particularly hot day and barely has the time to say _hey_ before Jason is on his knees in front of him, tongue on warm skin, hands reverent, saying _God, how have I never seen you in shorts before._ The entire thing is seared into Jughead’s memory, Jason desperate and sticky, practically worshipping Jughead’s exposed skin, rutting his bare cock against Jughead’s thigh until he came all over it, Jughead’s hot faced embarrassment trying to wash his shorts at the laundromat the next day. He wears shorts for a whole two weeks. 

They cuddle a lot too, draw each other close and laugh, kisses pressed soft to mouth or nose or cheek. 

* * *

The year moves fast, faster with Jason taking up all his time, filling his days with warm kisses and slow syrupy touches. 

Jughead barely notices when the days get colder and darker and Jason brings a blanket to the drive-in to huddle under then leaves it there. The blanket is warm, thick and fleecy, patterned blue and orange on top, soft white underneath. Jughead curls up under it on Christmas Eve, cold and trying desperately not to be lonely. 

He thought maybe his dad would visit, but he hasn’t, and probably won't. 

The knock on the drive-in door is surprising, shaking him from his sleepy haze. He wraps himself in the blanket, goes to open the door, and finds Jason there. His nose is bright red, blue scarf wrapped tight around his throat, and he’s wearing what seem to be pyjamas. 

“Hey,” he greets, with a small smile, then lets himself into the room completely without permission. 

“What are you doing here?” Jughead asks incredulously. “It’s Christmas Eve. Aren’t you meant to be with your weird family or something?”

Jason ducks his head, not quite concealing a larger smile, then leans in and kisses Jughead full on the lips. _Oh. Right. Sex. Gotcha._

Jughead kisses back, makes it longer, deeper. He’s had a fair amount of experience with kissing now, knows what Jason likes in and out, knows how to turn him on in less than a minute. 

Jason pulls back after several long moments, breathing heavily, biting down on his lip. “Fuck, you’re too good at that,” he says breathlessly, then adds after a second, “I - uh - I got you something.”

Jughead takes a cautious step back. A present? What? They - they hook up. They aren’t sweethearts or something. “What?” 

“Here,” Jason says, and presses something warm and crinkly into Jughead’s hands. Jughead looks down at it, the crinkled packaging of one of Pop’s to-go bags obvious. “Merry Christmas Jug, and you are right, I do need to go _be with my weird family_.” He leans in for another brief kiss, one Jughead’s too shocked to respond to, and legs it towards the door before Jughead can unscramble his brain. “See you later.” 

“Yeah, bye,” Jughead says to the empty room. He unrolls the takeaway bag and stares at its contents, deciding not to think too hard about how Jason knew his favourite burger. 

* * *

The Winter fades into Spring and, to Jason’s delight, Jughead’s shorts come back out. Only occasionally though, because Jason seems to have a hard time controlling himself around Jughead’s bare knees. 

It’s still early Spring when it happens, Jughead and Jason making out on Jughead’s bed in the drive-in, Jason’s fingers dipping into every rip in Jughead’s jeans that he can find. 

Jason’s pressing open-mouthed kisses up his neck, fingers caught in a tear high up Jughead’s thigh, and Jughead feels his dick twitch. Not just twitch. He gets hard. 

Jason’s breath hitches when he notices. 

“Jug-” he starts but Jughead shushes him with a kiss. 

“Ignore it,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to get the words out. 

“You’re hard,” Jason continues, oblivious to how _ignore it_ usually works. 

Jughead sighs. He _is_ hard. Horribly achingly hard and he honestly has no idea why. 

“Ignore it,” he insists and Jason groans, arches up beneath him. 

“Please,” Jason breathes, “please let me touch you. Jug-”

Jughead licks along the older boy’s neck, considering. They haven’t really engaged much with dicks. Not directly. Sure, Jason’s engaged a lot with his own dick, and he’s rubbed off against various parts of Jughead’s body, and there was the one time in the bathroom that Jughead both does and doesn’t like to think about. But Jughead’s never touched Jason’s dick with his hand, and Jason has never even seen Jughead’s. 

He doesn’t know if that’s what Jason wants now or if he means he wants to touch through Jughead’s thick jeans but finds he doesn’t really mind. 

“Yeah okay,” he acquiesces and starts shuffling his jeans down his waist. From Jason’s wide-eyed look he gathers it’s not what the redhead had expected. He pauses. “Should I keep them on?”

“No,” Jason says immediately, shaking his head, “please.” 

Jughead moves off Jason’s lap, pulls his jeans and underwear down in one go - not all the way, just enough to get his cock out. It is really strange how hard it is. He runs a hand along it and curses. He doesn’t think he’s _ever_ been this hard before. 

Jason’s watching him, open-mouthed and looking a little dumb. He reaches up hesitantly, ghosts his fingers over Jughead’s own, touching the soft skin in between. 

Jughead groans. It feels pretty good. Novel almost. He moves his own hand, let’s Jason's replace it, and moves back onto Jason’s lap before he forgets. His jeans pull tight around his thighs but not enough to be in the way. Jason’s hand starts moving and… yeah. Feels decent. Not as good as cuddling or kissing, but not bad. Jughead doesn’t think he’d want to do it _all_ the time, but occasionally maybe. 

He tries to grind down against Jason’s lap but with his jeans caught where they are he doubts the other boy feels much. 

“You wanna - ah, fuck. You gonna join me?”

Jason raises an eyebrow, opens his mouth, undoubtedly to ask if Jughead’s really _really_ okay, and snaps it shut again, thinking better of it. Thank god. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs, most of his focus still on Jughead’s dick. It’s a little disconcerting. 

Jason shuffles them around, doesn’t make Jughead hop off, just brings his free hand in between them and unzips his fly. He does have to let go to get the button and Jughead replaces the contact with his own hand because it seems like the thing to do. 

Jason’s busy fumbling with his jeans so Jughead figures it’s fine to give himself a few quick strokes. It feels okay, kind of absent up until he flicks his thumb over the tip and the feeling is so electric he gasps and his head drops between his shoulders. 

It’s weird, and his hip bones feel strange so he stills his movements. When he looks up Jason’s staring at him. 

“What?” he asks self-consciously, “why are your jeans still on?”

“That-” Jason licks his lips, “that was hot.”

Jughead’s can’t help the little flush of happiness at that. “Whatever,” he finally says, following up the indifference with a shrug, “get your pants off.” 

Jason nods, lifts his hips up, pressing into Jughead’s jeans where they’re still trapped around his knees. Jason starts shuffling his own jeans down, underwear as well until Jughead has a moment of realisation and gets off him. 

“What?” Jason asks, a thatch of red pubic hair exposed along with the first inch or so of his cock. 

Jughead doesn’t answer, shuffles out of his own jeans entirely, and sinks back down over Jason. This time when he grinds down into Jason’s hips, Jason gasps and yeah… it’s much better. 

Jason works double-time to get his own pants down his hips and then… then… then… 

“What the fuck,” Jughead hisses. They’ve found a rhythm where their dick’s press together just right, and Jason’s hip bones are digging sharp into Jughead’s thighs. Jughead tilts his head back, presses down harder. “God, it never feels like this.” 

“What doesn’t?” Jason manages, though he looks two steps away from coming. 

“My dick,” Jughead supplies. It really doesn’t. He’s never been this hard, and touching has never felt like this. 

“Good?” Jason asks. 

“Yeah,” Jughead pants, “fuck, it’s so good. It’s so- oh fuck.” 

There’s a feeling building in his gut. One he hasn’t felt in years, abandoned when he was fourteen and decided this whole jerking off thing just wasn’t for him. 

Jughead’s eyes are closed so it’s completely unexpected when there’s suddenly tight pressure around his dick, pressing it close to Jason’s own. If it weren’t so unexpected he may have been able to stop it, control himself. As it is… he comes, throws his head back and whines, stupid stupid stupid. 

Jason makes a sound like he’s finishing too and Jughead just… rips himself away, stumbles off the cot and falls to the floor. He feels messy and wrong and he hates it. Really hates it. 

“Jug?” Jason asks hesitantly, coming off the cot to kneel behind him. “You okay?” 

“No,” he says, eyes on the floor, “no. I don’t like that. I don’t-”

“Hey,” Jason says, in what is probably meant to be a soothing tone. A hand appears in Jughead’s vision and he flinches away from it, flinches right into Jason’s open arms. “It’s okay,” Jason murmurs into his ear.

“I’m sorry,” Jughead manages and he feels seconds away from crying. Stupid. 

“No,” Jason counters, “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.” 

“There’s something wrong with me,” Jughead continues, “I’m not right.”

“You’re perfect,” Jason says, so so quietly, and he takes his letterman jacket off, wraps it around Jughead’s shoulders. “You’re so fine.”

* * *

They went over it at the time, but when Jughead hops into Jason’s car two days later he still says, “sorry for freaking out on you.”

“You know it’s fine, Jug,” Jason says. Then, in full view of Pop’s, reaches over and pulls Jughead into a hug. “It’s fine.”

Jughead pulls himself out of the hug feeling lost and confused. Has their dynamic changed? Jughead was under the impression the entire thing was meant to be a secret. 

“Where - uh - where are we going today?” he asks. 

“The river?” Jason suggests, and it’s still weird even now that he always asks. Nothing is ever okay unless Jughead thinks it’s okay. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jughead says. Yet another place to add to his mental list of _places where Jason and I have made out._ So far the list includes Jason’s stupid car, the drive-in, Pop’s bathroom (Jughead still feels bad about that), the school bathroom, the school equipment shed, the middle of several forests, and, tentatively, Jason’s maple syrup shed. 

Jughead attempts to climb over the console the moment they’re there, but Jason gets out of the car. 

“What?” he asks dumbly. 

Jason ignores him and goes rummaging through the boot of his car, emerging with a literal wicker basket. 

“ _What?”_ Jughead asks again, because he thought they were here for a round of teenage grinding, not a fucking _picnic_ or whatever. 

Jason stops, mouth twisting to the side like he isn’t sure what to say, or if he should be saying anything. “Look Jug, after last time I just… I think we could use a break from the sex stuff. Focus on other things.”

“Other things,” Jughead repeats because they’re together for sex. Not other things. Sure they cuddle and all, but that’s a side product of sex. 

“Yeah,” Jason says, looking almost bashful, “do you want to do this or not?” He holds the basket a little higher. “I can take you home if you’re… uncomfortable.” 

Jughead stares. Jason is trying to _date_ him. It’s something he’s wanted since the beginning, but he’d resigned himself to it being a lost cause. Jason would never want him like that, except… except… 

Jughead wants to say _it’s fine,_ or _yes this is all I’ve been dreaming about._ What comes out is, “I - I - I can’t.” 

Jason’s face falls. 

“I can’t,” Jughead says again, steadier. It’s not what he wants but it’s so much to wrap his mind around. He needs a minute. Or a couple days. Something. “I - fuck - I need to go.”

Jason’s face twists, angry. “What is this Jughead?” he spits, “were you fucking _using me for sex?_ An asexual using me for sex! Do you feel anything? Fuck!” He spins on his heel, gets into the car. “Get out,” he says, “get the fuck out.” 

Jughead scrambles out of the car and Jason drives away. Leaves him there. 

“Fuck.” 

* * *

It’s three a.m the next day and Jughead’s phone’s vibrating hard against the table. It doesn’t wake him because he hasn’t slept yet. There’s a picture of an orange with a little angry face drawn on in sharpie flashing over and over which means it’s Jason calling him. At three a.m. 

Jughead picks it up. He can’t help it. He can’t help anything when it comes to Jason. 

“Jug,” Jason’s voice sounds, “fuck Jug. I made a mistake. I’m so sorry. So sorry. Oh god. I can’t - I wasn’t thinking.” He’s slurring, drunk. 

“You kill someone?” Jughead deadpans. 

“Fuck Jug,” Jason says, “it’s not fucking funny. I - I’m sorry. If I could take it back I would. I really would.”

He starts into incoherent apologies and Jughead cuts him off quickly. “Are you at home?”

“Yeah,” Jason breathes, “yeah. In the garden.”

“Go inside,” Jughead instructs, “get some sleep. We’ll talk about it later.” 

He hangs up before Jason can reply. 

* * *

He expects Jason to call in the morning but he doesn’t. Probably sleeping off the hangover.

Jughead’s definitely surprised when he walks into school and Jason’s already there being all jocky with Reggie. Jason sees him and looks away, won't meet his eyes at all. 

Jughead sighs, buries his face in his coat. And thus, their tale is over. As expected. 

* * *

It’s weeks before Jason talks to him again. He’s been looking, little inconspicuous glances all the time, but they never linger and never stay and never lead to actual contact. 

That is until Jason comes straight up to Jughead’s table at Pop’s and says, “you should sit with me.” 

“That’s a bad plan,” Jughead notes. 

“I want to talk to you,” Jason persists. 

“I’d really rather not.” 

Jason fidgets, lingers. A couple of people from school are staring. “You still have my letterman?” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Jughead answers, “you want it back?” He finds it doubtful - Jason is wearing a replacement jacket currently. 

“No I - you should wear it.” 

Jughead gives him a look. “That’s not how you keep secrets.”

“You were never a secret,” Jason says, slowly, quietly, with purpose. Then he walks away, back to his table. 

* * *

Spring passes, the Summer that follows burning hot. Jughead wears his shorts and doesn’t think about Jason, doesn’t think about his mouth on Jughead’s thigh, doesn’t think about the hot press of their sticky skin. 

He wants Jason. Jason wants him. It’s - it should work. He should be able to make it work. He should be able to confront Jason, talk to him. 

But he just… holds out. He holds out for so long. He and Jason won't work together, they’re too different, and gay in a town where hate speech is almost more acceptable than kindness. It rolls over and over in his mind. Him and Jason, him and Jason, them, together, the sparse cuddles morphing into something more, meaningful and strong. Them taking on the world. 

He spends the Fourth of July with Archie, buried in the smallest space he could find, thinking about it. Archie’s been talking about his own feelings for almost an hour now and Jughead can only imagine what his response would be if Jughead told him about what went down between him and Jason. 

He’s not really listening to Archie, blocking out Archie’s daft feelings for his own daft feelings. He zones back in as Archie asks, “Do you believe that there’s _the one?_ You know-” 

“I know what you mean,” Jughead cuts him off, “and no. Relationships are hard. They require effort. It’s not just a _bam, you’re the one for me._ There’s conflict. There’s-” His fingers twitch against his phone. “Fuck Arch, I gotta make a call.”

“Cool cool,” Archie says, nodding. “I really think the one could exist, you know.”

Jughead rolls his eyes, pulls his phone out. He stands in the hallway, waiting waiting waiting for the ringing to stop. Eventually it goes through the answerphone and he… has no idea what to say. 

“Jason,” he croaks and clears his throat, “I -” God he’s such a coward. “I want to talk… to you… about - um - us, I guess. Just call me back when you can… or don’t. I -”

A beep cuts him off, leaving him in the dark of Archie’s hallway with a rapid pulse and a tight feeling in the pit of his stomach that feels a bit like fear. 

It’s done. He did it. Now he just has to wait. 

* * *

The next day Jason Blossom is reported as missing. Jughead walks up and down the river the whole day, the next day, desperate, because Jason’s not just _missing._ He’s missing, presumed dead, presumed drowned. 

And Jughead can’t stop. He can’t stop and _think_ about that. He can’t. 

He searches the day after. The day after that. 

He goes back to the drive-in crying and distraught and is blind-sided by his dad on one of his monthly check-ins. 

Jughead may not be hiding his grief well around the community, but it’s been well enough not to draw any concern, any questions. The state he arrives home in is enough to draw concern, his dad’s face dropping from impassive to worry in half a second. Jughead tries to play it off, but can’t, and ends up telling his dad everything. 

It’s too much to expect advice or even empathy from his dad, but he gets it all out, actually tells someone. Which is something. 

* * *

Jughead’s been sitting in Jason’s regular booth at Pop’s for a week now. He still goes down to the river every day but he’s the only one. It’s been a week. 

He feels stretched out and faded. Like a ghost. He’s heard Cheryl’s story. Everyone has. Heard how she and Jason went for an early morning boat ride, how Jason fell in. 

Jason fell in, and he never heard Jughead’s message. He never heard it because Jughead was scared and stupid, and now it’s too late. 

* * *

Jason’s letterman jacket is in his bag. Sometimes he wears it to bed. It’s dumb. It’s so dumb, because Jughead is antisocial and the poster boy for maladjusted. The debate around Jason’s death is hot, and the fuckheads at school are already pointing his way, _what was it like, when you killed Jason?_

The cops could come knocking any day. He should get rid of the jacket. He should. It’s incriminating, and there’s no way anyone would believe Jughead has it because him and Jason were kind of _dating_ and he didn’t fucking realise until it was too late. He should get rid of it, but he can’t. 

So he keeps it with him, and he wears it to bed, and he’s miserable. 

He sits in Jason’s booth, with Jason’s jacket bundled up in his bag by his feet, and he wishes it were enough. 

Slowly he picks up the bag by his feet, holds it close, ignores the food Pop’s been giving him on the house - like he knows. He buries his face in the bag and lets out a sob that’s a little too loud. 

The bell over the door chimes and slowly the diner goes quiet around him, silent, like someone muted it. Jughead ignores it. He doesn’t care what they think. 

_The weird hat guy is crying over his backpack. What a freak._

Who cares? Who fucking cares?

He seems to be the only source of noise in the entire diner, the place an eerie judging quiet. 

Footsteps approach the table, and Jughead braces for some kind of ignorant comment, some kind of insult, something awful to act as the fucking icing on the cake. 

Something touches his knee, warm, solid, and a deep voice croaks, “You’re sitting at my table. Took you long enough.” 

Jughead’s eyes open instantly, take in the large hand resting over his knee, freckled and pale. He recognises that hand. He recognises that voice. 

But it can’t be. It can’t-

Another hand comes up to wrap around his neck and the whole diner explodes into whispers. 

“Come on, Jug. Look at me.”

Jughead does, and he knows he’s a mess of tears and deep purple under-eye bags, but Jason’s worse. He’s pale and bloody, a jagged red gash bisecting his cheek, bruises littering his face and neck. His wrists are red, bruised like he was tied up. 

“Jason,” Jughead manages, “what - jesus christ - what happened?”

Jason smiles, clearly painful around his split lip, and leans in from where he’s crouched beside the booth, rests his head against Jughead’s shoulder. “I - I don’t know,” he mumbles, breath hot on Jughead’s neck, “I fell in the river. And when I got out, there were these guys waiting for me. They kidnapped me, and today they just let me go.”

Jughead can’t stop himself from wrapping his arms around Jason, drawing him even closer. “They let you go? What did the cops say?”

Jason lets out a hoarse chuckle. “Don’t know. I haven’t been to the station. I - I came here first. Knew you'd be here.”

“You - what the fuck - you came here first!? Jason you need to go to the station. And, probably the hospital. Come on, you-”

“Aw, you care,” Jason mocks half-heartedly. 

“Of course I care. You - of course I care. Come on. I’ll call the ambulance. You just-”

“Shhh,” Jason breathes, leaning heavily into him, “just let me hold you. I missed you. Missed you so much. Let me Jug, please.”

Jughead flicks a glance around the diner, takes in the shocked faces. A couple of them have their phones out. Someone must have called an ambulance by now. Or the cops at least.

“Fine,” he acquiesces, turning to bury his face in Jason’s hair, “fine, but when the ambulance comes, I don’t want to hear any complaining.” 

“Okay Jug.”

* * *

Under the scandal of Jason returning, and under the even bigger scandal of it being Jason’s father that hired people to kidnap his son, the whole Jason and Jughead thing kind of gets shoved under a rug and forgotten about. 

But when it all dies down, and Clifford Blossom is arrested, and all that’s left of Jason’s bruises are yellowish marks, it starts to come back up. 

_I heard Jason went to see that Jughead kid before he even went to the cops_

_Jenny said she saw them hugging. What’s up with that?_

_Jason and Jughead? That’s insane. Why would they even talk to each other?_

Jason, almost gleefully, makes it his mission to help the rumours along. He insists Jughead wears his letterman jacket. He drives Jughead to school every morning. He comes to visit him between classes. He tapes notes to Jughead’s locker. He holds his hand and buys him milkshakes at Pop’s. 

When the other jocks start making confused huffing noises about it, Jason shuts them down and tells them to get the fuck over themselves. _Jughead and I are dating, and if you don’t like it you can get out of my face._

Worst of all, he starts introducing Jughead to anyone he can as _my boyfriend._

It’s not long at all before the whole town knows. With the way Jason goes on, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole _country_ knew. 

Jughead can’t bring himself to be anything but happy about it. So happy that he completely misses the holes in Jason’s story that would usually be glaringly obvious to him. Completely misses them, that is, until Jason goes to answer the knocking at the drive-in door and freezes. 

Jughead glances up from his laptop curiously and finds Jason and his father staring at each other. He has a moment of incomprehension, followed by the biggest realisation of his entire life. 

It was his dad that kidnapped Jason. His dad held him captive for a whole week. 

Jason never told the cops who it was. Always said he never saw their faces, that he didn’t know why they let him go. He said he’d overheard them talking about Clifford hiring them. He’d - 

Jason nods at Jughead’s dad, gets a nod in return, and slowly closes the door. He turns and stops, searches Jughead’s face. 

“You figured it out then,” he says, sounding fond. “I knew you would eventually. You’re too smart not to.” 

“Why didn’t you tell the cops it was him? Why did you lie for him? He kidnapped you. He hurt you. He-”

“He let me go,” Jason interrupts. “He came in and told me my dad hired him. He gave me proof. He told me to tell the cops everything, even about him, and when I asked him why, he told me his son was in love with me. I can’t put your dad in jail, Jug.”

“You should.” 

Jason walks over, slowly like he thinks Jughead could spook and run away. He settles down on the edge of the bed and runs his hand up Jughead’s leg. “I know, but I won't and I don’t want to. Please don’t try to make me.” 

Jughead lets out a long breath. “I would never make you do anything,” he sighs, “but you should.”

Jason just hums and climbs further onto the bed to lie half over Jughead, like a human blanket. Jughead shifts his laptop to the side to make room. 

“It’s all in the past now anyway. Everyone’s over it.” He noses at Jughead’s cheek. “I’m over it Jug.” 

“If you change your mind, I’m on your side,” Jughead tells him. “I’m always on your side.” 

“I know.”

* * *

Jughead’s sitting on the floor in Archie’s room, distractedly listening to Archie talk about some girl. He nods occasionally, to be polite, but is mostly focused on texting Jason. 

“Hey Jug,” Archie says, and it’s been so long since Archie last called him _Jug_ that Jughead frowns and looks up. No one really calls him Jug anymore, aside from Jason, and hearing it come from Archie - who, despite the red hair, is nothing like Jason - is a little disconcerting. 

“Yeah?” 

“I know you’re asexual and all,” Archie starts, somewhat awkwardly, “but do you think you’ll ever have a girlfriend?”

Jughead blinks at him, completely baffled. Fuck, he forgot how oblivious Archie can be. 

“I currently have a boyfriend,” he offers, just as awkwardly. He isn’t usually the one who says stuff like this, not when Jason’s so enthusiastic about it. 

“Oh?” Archie asks, sounding surprised. Logically, Jughead expects his next question to be _who?_ Archie, being Archie, follows it up with, “do you guys have sex then?”

Jughead chokes on his own spit, sits up hacking. Archie thumps him on the back a bit too hard to be helpful. Eventually, eyes watering, Jughead manages to choke out, “I don’t like sex, Archie.”

“I know but like… you guys don’t do anything? Wait, how long have you been dating?”

“Uh,” Jughead starts, not too sure how to answer that. Jason usually tells people they’ve been dating since last year's Summer break, which, despite being factually incorrect, makes Jughead feel rather warm. “Since July 11th,” he offers. 

“So, a couple of months,” Archie says, nodding. “You haven’t done anything though?”

Jughead shrugs, considers for a second. _Fuck it._ “I’ve been getting him off for over a year now.”

It’s Archie’s turn to choke, to turn and stare at him. “I thought you said a couple of months?”

“We’ve been dating for a couple months. We’ve been doing other stuff for longer.”

“What stuff?”

“Stuff,” Jughead repeats awkwardly. “I’d really rather not talk about it with you.”

“Sorry sorry,” Archie says and puts his hands up like he’s surrendering. “Thanks for telling me though,” he continues seriously, “when are you planning on telling everyone else?”

“Well… everyone else already knows.”

“They - they know you’re dating someone?”

“He’s been telling everyone,” Jughead says, can’t keep the fondness out of his voice. “He loves telling people.” 

“Who?”

“I don’t know. People,” Jughead says, well aware it’s not the question Archie’s asking. 

“No. Who are you dating?”

“Jason Blossom.”

Archie just… blanks. He stops working. Jughead pushes him with a finger and he doesn’t move. He just stares, agape. 

Jughead’s phone buzzes and he checks it. 

_I’m outside_

_You ready?_

_Yeah sorry_

_Just blew Archie’s brain or something_

_He didn’t know we were dating???_

_Ahahahaha_

_Yeah that makes sense_

_Of course he didn’t_

_Be out in a sec_

_Can’t wait_

_Are you wearing shorts?_

_It’s Autumn_

_So?_

_It’s cold_

_Warm in my room_

_… we’re going to yours?_

_If you want that?_

_Yeah but_

_I don’t have shorts with me sorry_

_You’ll have to go without_

_Dw, I’ve got some you can wear_

_Thinking ahead_

_Oml. Your obsession?_

_It’s insane_

_Thanks_

_See you soon xx_

**Author's Note:**

> And they lived happily ever after. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I just wanted asexual Jughead and not entirely a dickhead Jason. 
> 
> In terms of the representation of asexuality with the inclusion of sexual elements, asexuality differs from person to person. It's kind of a spectrum. Please leave any hate at the door, because I personally am on this spectrum and don't want to argue what is or isn't asexuality with anyone. (I did actually find a page on asexuality for when Jughead's doing his search, but it was a long time ago and I don't remember what it was and stupidly didn't record it. Sorry).
> 
> Please do leave a comment if you liked this fic, or want to see more like it, or even if I mixed up a Jason and a Jughead somewhere (it was hard). 
> 
> \- Activeaggression


End file.
